


After the End, Before the Beginning

by Kiraly



Series: Kiraly's Hipster Band AU [4]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hipsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7704418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All bands start somewhere, and the Troll Hunters are no exception. Here are three short stories about how they met and decided to play music together.</p><p>Edit: Added a second chapter with a story about Reynir and his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Minutia-r for asking me how Emil came to be roommates with Lalli and Tuuri, and how the three of them met Sigrun and formed a band. Originally posted in three parts on [Tumblr.](http://worldsentwined.tumblr.com/post/148408311134/youve-revealed-how-sigrun-and-mikkel-met-in-biwc)
> 
> It's not necessary to have read _Before It Was Cool_ or any of the other stories in the AU to understand this, but you might enjoy it more.

**Part 1: Emil Meets Tuuri**

Emil sank down onto one of the hard wooden chairs outside the Student Services office and put his face in his hands. The seat was all-too-familiar; he’d spent nearly an hour in it before the adviser could meet with him. With the way that five-minute conversation had gone, he might have been better off staying in the chair.

_What am I going to do now?_ His parents had made it clear that their financial support depended on him sticking it out and finishing school. But no matter how hard he tried - and no matter how hard he tried to make them _see_ how hard he was trying - nothing he did was good enough. All the late nights studying, the pleading emails to professors about extending deadlines - all for nothing. He’d tried, he’d failed, and with “an academic record like his” the university was not going to give him another chance. He could blame his high school overconfidence or his freshman slacking all he liked, but that did nothing to change the fact that he was washing out as a sophomore.

_I’ll have to get a job. Maybe Aunt Siv or Uncle Torbjörn know someone. They might let me babysit their kids for a few extra bucks, but…that won’t be enough._ Even if he got a job, it still wouldn’t be enough. His apartment - actually a row house - was too expensive for someone living on his own without parental support. All his attempts at living with roommates had failed before, but…he could try to find someone. He had to.

Sunk in his own worries, Emil nearly fell out of his chair when the office door burst open with a _BANG._ He recovered in time to see a tiny ball of pure fury explode from the office, shouting as she went.

“I’m DONE with you! I’m done with ALL OF YOU, this place can burn in hell for all I care! Anarchy! Freedom from the establishment! I’m gonna tear this place apart stone by stone!” The girl - it was a girl, not a hurricane after all - threw down a stack of papers and slammed the door behind her. Then she kicked it for good measure, which didn’t seem to bother the solid wood any more than her shouting had. “Ow!”

The girl hopped on one foot, swearing, then caught Emil staring at her. “What?”

Emil blinked. “Uh…are you…okay?” Now that she wasn’t shouting, she looked a lot less intimidating - small, with a round face and short hair that fluffed over her forehead. 

She grinned. “Oh, yes. I’m better than okay, I’m _free!_ I can’t believe I wasted so much of my life here. I’m off to better things now, no more academic drudgery for me.” She limped toward the outside door, and after a moment’s hesitation Emil followed her.

“Did you just…quit school?” he asked. He couldn’t imagine doing that, not after how hard he’d been trying to stay in it. But the girl laughed.

“Did I ever! Wow, this feels so good. It’s like a huge weight has been lifted, you know? No more research papers. No more labs, no more skeevy professors or TAs who grade based on who sucks up the most.” The rude gesture which accompanied that last statement made Emil blush. “Anyway, I decided enough was enough. I quit school, and my brother can take all his ‘you have to get a degree or you’ll never get a job’ nonsense and stick it up his-”

“Ah,” Emil interrupted, “Isn’t that…kind of true, though? I mean, jobs aren’t easy to get…”

The girl snorted. “Nah, getting a job isn’t so hard. I have one already. There’s this lady who owns a bike repair shop, and I started helping out around there to get away from school. Eventually she offered me a job! Isn’t that great?”

“Yeah…great.” Some people had all the luck, it seemed.

“The only thing is,” the girl continued, “I’m going to have to find a place to stay. My brother lives way out in the suburbs, and I’d rather live under a bridge than in his house right now.” For the first time, she looked a little worried. “He’s going to be so upset when I tell him I dropped out.”

Emil’s irritation turned to sympathy. He might not understand why someone would _want_ to quit school, but he could understand not wanting to disappoint family. “Yeah. My parents are going to be pissed at me, too.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What were you doing at Student Services, anyway?”

Emil grimaced. “Flunking out.”

“Ah.” The girl was quiet for a minute, then held out a fist. “Well, here’s to being done with this place _and_ pissing off our families, I guess. Want to grab a coffee with me? I’m Tuuri, by the way.”

After a moment, Emil bumped his fist against hers. “Yeah. Sure, coffee sounds good. I’m Emil.”

Two shots of espresso and one mocha frappuccino later, Tuuri was on the phone with her cousin, chattering about this great new rental house she’d found. Hadn’t he always wanted to live in the city? Would he like to move in with her and her new roommate? Emil walked home with a stack of job applications and a spring in his step. _Maybe…just maybe, this will work out._

 

* * *

 

**Part 2: Emil Meets Lalli** _  
_

Emil wasn’t sure what he’d expected when Tuuri said her cousin would move in to help with rent. Someone like Tuuri, probably: talkative, energetic, ready to take the world by storm. Or maybe someone like her brother, who’d introduced himself by showing up in a rage and pinning Emil to the wall, demanding to know where his sister was. Given the volume of the resulting argument, Emil wouldn’t have thought anyone in the family was particularly quiet.

“You’re living _here?!_ In this seedy place? Tuuri, what if something _happens_ to you? Do you even _know_ this guy? He could be a serial killer, or a kleptomaniac, or-”

“He’s not going to kill me, he’s fine! Honestly Onni, you won’t even give him a chance!”

“A chance to _kill you,_ or take advantage of you? You’re damn right I won’t-”

Even from the relative safety of the kitchen, Emil could hear Tuuri’s disgusted snort. “Is _that_ what this is about? You’re worried about your baby sister living with a guy? It’s not like that, I promise he has _no_ interest in me that way. Besides, it’s not like I’ll be living alone with him. Lalli’s moving in.”

“WHAT?!?!”

At this point Emil decided it was in his best interest to take himself elsewhere. He descended the stairs to the basement - if Tuuri’s cousin was going to live in the bedroom down there, he should probably make sure it was somewhat clean. His former roommate had moved out over a month ago, and Emil had been too busy trying to salvage his academic career to check if it was properly cleaned out. Even if the room had been clean a month ago, there were bound to be some dust and cobwebs to take care of.

There _was_ dust. There was also a person, crouched beside the desk Emil’s old roommate had apparently left behind. He looked up from threading cables between a series of computer monitors when Emil arrived. “What do you want?”

Emil closed his mouth - it had dropped open, probably from surprise - and swallowed hard. “Uh. I…live here?” Then the rest of the man’s features registered - straight, silvery hair that fell past his chin, sharp cheekbones, and an ice-blue glare that looked oddly familiar - _oh._ Someone with similar features but a much heavier build had just assaulted Emil in his living room. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was down here! I’m Emil. You must be Tuuri’s cousin.”

The man jerked his head in what might have been a nod. “Lalli.” His voice barely carried to where Emil stood. Instead of standing to greet Emil, or continuing the conversation, he went back to sorting computer cords. When it was clear he had no intention of saying anything else, Emil tried again.

“So…I guess you’ve found your room. Is it okay? I meant to clean before you got here, but you must have come in while I was meeting Onni…”

“It’s fine.” This time Lalli didn’t even look up.

“Okay. Good, that’s…great. Do you need any help?” In addition to the desk, there were a few pieces of furniture left in the room - a bed, a rickety chair, a milk crate with a lamp that was missing its shade. Other than that and a few cardboard boxes, it seemed to be more or less empty. “Bringing your stuff in, I mean.”

Lalli waved a hand at the boxes. “This is it.” This time he did look up. “You can go now.”

_That’s all he brought? How does he manage with so little?_ Emil opened his mouth to ask another question, but the look on Lalli’s face stopped him. “Oh, okay. Sure, I’ll go. Just let me know if you need - or if you have any questions - or - I’ll be upstairs.” Emil beat a hasty retreat. In the sudden quiet - Onni and Tuuri had stopped arguing - he heard the door close behind him.

Emil didn’t get another chance to talk to Lalli until later that evening. After Onni left, he’d spent the afternoon helping Tuuri settle into her new room and acquainting her with the rest of the house. She’d cooed over the kitchen - “It’s so cute! I can’t wait to cook in here!” - and politely not commented on the state of the bathroom. Emil resolved to be better at cleaning, now that he was sharing the space. Eventually Tuuri asked for directions to the nearest grocery store, leaving Emil with a quiet - but _not_ empty - house. 

Emil hesitated at the top of the basement stairs. _Should I go down? Or should I leave him alone?_ The basement had its own tiny bathroom, so there was nothing to say Lalli _had_ to leave anytime soon - but maybe he would like some company, or an offer to come upstairs. Emil didn’t want him to feel like he couldn’t spend time in the rest of the house, after all. _Maybe he’s hungry? I didn’t see any food down there._ Unfortunately, Emil didn’t exactly have a ton of food in the house, but he was sure he could find something. A search of the cupboards turned up a bag of rice - _no -_ three cans of beans that had lived there longer than Emil had - _no_  - and a package of cookies. _Perfect._

Lalli opened the door a tiny crack when Emil knocked. “What?”

Emil put on his best smile. “I just wanted to see how you’re settling in. Check if you have any questions about the house, or…are you hungry?” He held up the cookies, which he’d arranged on a plate in an attempt to make them look homemade.

The door opened wider. “Hmm.” A slender hand stretched out and retreated again, clutching a cookie. Emil heard a crunch, a sigh, and then the door opened all the way. Lalli took another cookie and waved for Emil to follow him.

The room was dark apart from the glow of monitors, which filled the desk and overflowed onto a little folding table Emil hadn’t noticed before. Lalli perched on a swivel chair that hadn’t been there earlier - maybe he’d brought more than those few boxes after all. Emil sat gingerly on the spindly wooden chair, still holding the plate.

“So how are you liking the room? Do you need anything else, or-” 

Lalli stretched out a hand without looking and fished around until he found another cookie. When nothing else happened, Emil leaned forward to look over his shoulder at the screens.

“Wait…is that…it can’t be. Is that the new _Night Scout?”_

Lalli spun in his chair. “You know it?” He took the opportunity to pilfer another two cookies. Emil was too busy staring at the screen to care.

“Of _course_ I know it! I’ve been dying to get an invitation to the beta, but _no one_ can get one of those! How did you do it? Did you bribe someone? _Kill_ someone? Whatever you did, you have to tell me!”

A smile flickered across Lalli’s face, so fast Emil almost missed it. “ _You_ play  _Night Scout.”_

Emil sighed. “Well, I’ve played all the old ones. I’d be playing this one too, except I thought it was impossible.”

“Hmm.” Lalli munched a cookie, then slid his chair to the side and held out a controller. “Come on, then.”

“Really?”

Another tiny smile. “Yeah. I haven’t tested the co-op mode yet. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

As it turned out, Emil couldn’t keep up - Lalli was _amazing -_ until his character got a flamethrower. When Tuuri found them an hour later, Emil was shouting  _“Burn, suckers! I’m gonna flame you SO HARD-”_ and Lalli was still smiling. The plate lay forgotten between them, empty except for crumbs.

 

* * *

 

**Part 3: Troll Hunters**

Tuuri closed the door behind her and took off her helmet. “Hey guys, I’m home!” The word brought a smile to her face. It was so nice to have a place she could call her own - not the stifling house that used to be Grandma’s and was now Onni’s, but somewhere that was really hers. Well, hers _and_ Emil’s _and_ Lalli’s. But even though Emil had lived here for more than a year and Tuuri had lived here for less than a week, she didn’t feel like Emil thought of it as _his_ house. He seemed genuinely happy to have her there.  _I really lucked out with this roommate situation._

As she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, Tuuri heard music coming from somewhere. She craned her neck to see down the hallway - sure enough, Emil’s door was open, and the volume increased as she approached. _He even has good taste in music. I wonder what band this is? I’ve never heard them before._ Something with a male vocalist singing over a keyboard - a little sparse on instruments, but he had a good voice, whoever he was. Tuuri poked her head around the door to ask - and got her answer without having to say anything. _Oh. Not a recording, I guess._

“Wow! I had no idea you were a musician!”

Emil jerked in surprise, fingers stuttering discord across the keys. “Ahh! Oh, Tuuri. You startled me.” 

“Sorry!” She held out her hands in apology. “I didn’t realize it was you playing, I thought you were listening to something. I was going to ask who wrote the song, it’s beautiful. Your voice is, too.”

Emil blushed to the roots of his hair. “Umm. Thank you, it’s…that’s a really nice thing to say.” He ran his hand lightly over the keys. “It’s one of mine, actually. The song. I used to write a lot, but ever since school got so crazy, I haven’t had time.” His expression turned sad, the way it usually did when he mentioned school, but then his face cleared and he shrugged. “I guess I have plenty of time now though, don’t I?”

“You do! And it’s so cool you write your own music - I wish I could do that! I can figure out rhythms no problem, but words…just don’t work for me.” She sighed. “I wish I’d been able to bring my drum kit with me, but I didn’t think there’d be space in my room. Plus, it’s not exactly easy to practice those without annoying people.”

Emil leaned forward. “Hmm. You play drums?”

Tuuri nodded. “Sure, for years. I was part of a few bands back in high school, but none of them lasted long.”

“You know…there’s a little…’battle of the bands’ thing coming up in a few weeks. Just for amateur groups, nothing fancy. I was thinking about entering, that’s why I’m practicing. So…I don’t know if you’d want to, or if you can figure out a drum part for this, but…”

Tuuri’s heart beat double-time. “Are you asking me to be in a band with you?”

Emil twisted a piece of hair. “If you want to. Like I said, don’t feel any pressure to-”

“I’d LOVE to!” Tuuri grabbed him in a hug. “We might be able to convince Lalli, too, he plays bass! Only we’ll probably have to bribe him, he hates crowds. Where do we sign up?”

* * *

Emil led the way through the music store, smiling indulgently whenever Tuuri paused to admire a display of drum sticks or run her hands over a shiny ukulele. He hadn’t been sure he really would sign up - he didn’t even know if solo acts  _could_ sign up - but her enthusiasm had convinced him. He hoped she had drum skills to match.

They reached the desk with the signup sheet, but someone else was already there. And from the sound of things, she was not a happy customer.

“Of all the _stupid_ rules! I don’t see why I need a full band, I can take on any one of these trolls, just me and my axe!”

The clerk at the desk leaned as far away from the shouting woman as he could. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I don’t make the rules! You have to have at least two people for the battle of the bands. If you want to do a one-woman act, there’s an open mic night on Thursdays, or-”

The woman slammed her fist on the desk. “Open mic nights are a joke! I’m looking for a challenge, not a sing-along.”

“Even so, the battle of the bands-”

“Maybe she could join our band.”

Emil tore his gaze away from the angry redhead to stare at Tuuri. “WHAT?”

Unfortunately, the woman had heard her too. “What was that, Stubby?”

Tuuri frowned. “Tuuri, not ‘Stubby’. I was just saying to my bandmate here,” she nodded at Emil, “that maybe you’d want to team up with us. We don’t have a guitarist. I’m a drummer, my cousin’s on bass, and Emil plays keyboard and writes the songs.” She said it so confidently, like they had been a band for years instead of half an hour.

The woman loomed over Tuuri. “So what you’re saying is, you want to invite me, a total stranger, to join your band without either of us having heard the other play?”

Tuuri shrugged. “I guess so.”

A grin spread over the woman’s face. “I like your style.” She thrust out a hand. “Sigrun Eide. Most best guitarist, vocalist, and songwriter in the city.” She cast a glare back at the store clerk. “Not that this joker will let me prove it.”

Tuuri shook the proffered had, and so, reluctantly, did Emil. _Why do I get the feeling this is a really bad idea?_

“Isn’t this the best idea?” Tuuri said, bouncing on her toes. “We’re going to take the battle of the bands by storm!”

* * *

By nearly all metrics, the battle of the bands was _not_ a success. Tuuri broke a drum stick, Lalli missed a cue because he had his eyes closed the whole time, and Sigrun got in a fist fight with the lead singer of another band. Emil thought, privately, that on the whole it probably didn’t matter that he’d been playing in the wrong key for an entire verse. But somehow, despite the catastrophic failure…it was also the most fun Emil had had in a long time.

Apparently Sigrun thought so too, because she emerged from the brawl she’d started with a massive grin on her face. “That was AWESOME! I don’t care what those crooked judges say, we’re the most best band here.” She slung one arm around Emil and the other around Tuuri, only leaving Lalli out because he dodged away. “So what do you say? Think we should do this again? I’m in if you are.”

Despite all his reservations - _I am SO going to regret this -_ Emil found himself nodding in agreement. 


	2. Summer Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Reynir let his brother drag him along for a night on the town, he never expected to make a connection that would change his life. Set around 6 months before Before It Was Cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A while ago I mentioned that I was procrastinating working on the main BIWC story line (sorry everyone!) and Minutia_R requested I write something with Reynir and his brother or something about how Reynir came to be working in the city. I decided to do both at the same time!

Reynir pulled his scarf tighter around his neck and stared at the building towering over him. He paused to admire a window display—so many lights!—before someone spun him around and dragged him away.

“Come _on,_ little brother! You can gawk later, we’re gonna be late!”

Reluctantly, Reynir tore his gaze from the window and smiled at his companion. “Aww, what’s the fun in coming to the city if I can’t stop to look at things? Your old military buddy will understand if we’re a _little_ late, right Bjarni?”

Bjarni shook his head. It was still odd seeing him with such even, close-cropped hair, though he’d sported the navy’s requisite hairstyle for several years at this point. Reynir still half-expected him to come home with the ridge of long hair in the middle that he’d had all growing up.

“She isn’t just an old friend, she’s my former commanding officer. Retired last year, and moved here to settle down. Just because she’s out of the service doesn’t mean she won’t expect us to be right on time.”

“All right.” Reynir allowed Bjarni to steer him down the street and into a bar. The inside showed no sign of the festive decorations that covered nearly every storefront they’d seen on the way. In fact, it was pretty much lacking in any kind of decor, unless sturdy wooden furniture counted. _For a place called the Mad Moose, this is pretty...dull._ It seemed like a shame to drive all the way into the city just to sit in this dimly-lit room and listen to his brother swap war stories with a stranger.

Even so, Reynir relished the sense of freedom that came with being away from home and—mostly—on his own. Bjarni made sure to bring him along on excursions like this whenever he was home on leave, though that wasn’t often. His older brother knew firsthand how hard it could be to get away from the farm and cut loose. _If “cutting loose” is even the right phrase to describe this. I might have more fun back with the sheep._

Bjarni must have caught what he was thinking, because he ruffled Reynir’s hair and flashed one of his signature grins. “Don’t worry, ReyRey. When we’re done here, we’ll go out on the town, see the sights. Hit up some more exciting bars, pick up some girls—or guys, whoever finds us the most charming. What do you say?”

 _That_ sounded more like the Bjarni he knew. Of course, that kind of plan _usually_ ended with _Bjarni_ getting a date and Reynir getting stuck listening to someone’s drunken sob story. But brother bonding was brother bonding, and he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to spend time with Bjarni.

So Reynir said, “Sure, that sounds great. Now where’s the lady we’re supposed to meet?”

Bjarni scanned the room. “Over there. Come on, let’s go say hello before we get drinks.”

Reynir wasn’t sure what he’d expected when Bjarni invited him to meet his old commanding officer, but it certainly hadn’t been anything like the person who waited at the corner table. The elderly woman knitting a scarf _should_ have been out of place in the seedy bar, but she sat like she owned the room. When she spotted them, she sat forward and leaned her elbows on the table.

“Bjarni Árnason. You’re late.”

“Sorry, Captain,” Bjarni said, grinning too wide for his apology to ring true, “You know me, I’m always gawking at the big city sights. Total country bumpkin.”

The woman laughed. “Good to see you, boy. Who’s your friend?”

Bjarni made introductions. “Captain, this is my brother Reynir. Rey, this is Captain Ása Harðardóttir.”

The captain shook Reynir’s hand and gestured for them to sit. Another quick movement of her hand brought a bartender over with drinks. “Another Árnason, eh? Looks like this one isn’t taking the military path, judging from the hair.”

“Ah, no,” Reynir said. “I’m still at home, helping with the farm. Nothing exciting like what Bjarni is doing.”

“Hey, just because it’s away from home doesn’t mean it’s exciting,” Bjarni said. “But speaking of excitement, didn’t you say you were starting something new here in the city, Captain? Besides knitting and working your wiles on poor unsuspecting bartenders, I mean.”

The captain cackled and smacked Pétur on the arm. “Insolent! You’d better not talk that way when you’re on duty, boy. As it happens, I am up to something. Might interest you, actually, with your background. Ever heard of community supported agriculture?”

As she launched into her explanation, Reynir felt his eyes going wide and his jaw dropping. _People actually farm here, in the city? They_ pay _people to do that?_ He’d always thought that the skills he’d picked up from living in the middle of nowhere wouldn’t be useful anywhere else. But growing things...he knew about that. He could _do_ that. _And I could do it here. It’s not exactly far from home, but it’s farther than I’ve ever been before._

The thought stayed with him even when the conversation moved on to other topics. When they stood to leave, Reynir cleared his throat and addressed the captain. “So...that farming thing you were talking about...are you ever looking for people to help?”

“Interested, are you?” She fished around in her knitting bag. After a moment she produced a business card. “Here. This has the website. I don’t handle that myself, but if you email the farm manager she’ll let you know. I think we’re still looking for summer interns. Something to think about.”

“Thank you so much, I...this is really helpful! I’ll do that, thank you.” He would have kept babbling his appreciation all night had Bjarni not grabbed his arm and steered him out the door.

“Close your mouth before you hurt yourself, buddy,” Bjarni said, jostling Reynir with his elbow. “She really impressed you, huh?”

“Don’t you think it’s _cool_ though? People actually _farming_ in the city! I had no idea! I know, I know...I get excited over every little thing.”

Bjarni laughed. “You do, but you’re right, it is pretty cool. I think you should check out that website.”

“Really?” Reynir paused in the middle of untangling his scarf from his braid. “Do you think I could really get a job with them?”

“I don’t see why not.” Bjarni tugged the braid free and slung his arm around Reynir’s shoulders. “And I think it’d be good for you to get out on your own for a while. Have a life of your own for once, instead of eating, sleeping and breathing farm work like Mom and Dad.”

“It...might be nice to live in the city. Just to see what it’s like,” Reynir said. Looking around at all the people bustling about their business, he could hardly imagine being one of them. How would it feel to know these streets like he knew the dirt roads back home? Would he ever get to a point where he _didn’t_ stare in awe at the lights and sights of this place? _I guess I won’t know unless I try it._

“Just you wait, little brother. This time next year _you’ll_ be the one leading _me_ around. And maybe you’ll finally get a date.”  
  
Now it was Reynir’s turn to elbow Bjarni. “Yeah, like _that’s_ going to happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Yes...I know we don't have a canon name for Reynir's brother yet. I decided to go with Pétur because it's one of the other names mentioned in the Icelandic part of the Prologue. If we ever find out his real name, I'll probably change this.~~
> 
> OH HEY we know Bjarni's name now. It took me forever to get around to changing it, but it's fixed now.


End file.
